


The Storm

by TalesOfOnyxBats



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Headcanon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 22:13:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17109086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TalesOfOnyxBats/pseuds/TalesOfOnyxBats
Summary: Avatar World Week: Day 7 - Head(canon)Azula and Sokka watch horror movies together during a storm. Headcanons used; “Azula loves horror movies but is a real wimp about them” and, “Azula has a weird love of pandas.





	The Storm

Azula buries herself further under the blanket.

“I think that you’re running out of blanket.” Sokka chuckled. “Why are you hiding anyways, you picked the movie.”

“I’m not hiding.” She grumbled. “I’m freezing.” It is an adequate excuse if she had to say. Truth be told, he was right. She loved horror movies above all other genres. But lord, was she bad with them. She clutches the blanket closer to herself and nestles into Sokka as the demon makes its first genuine appearance.

She doesn’t know why she does this to herself. Ghost and slasher movies are the worst, maybe more than most, she thinks that they will come after her. In fact she is almost one-hundred percent sure that her therapist told her to lay off on the horror movies. But she couldn’t resist; especially not on a stormy October evening.

Sokka wraps his arms around her and holds her close. “Let’s turn the lights off.”

“What!? No.”

“Why not, you afraid of the dark?”

“Absolutely not!”

“You are afraid of the movie aren’t you?” He smiles so smugly.

She folds her arms over her chest. “I’m not.” As if the world was trying to make her look like a wimp, the demon’s face appears again; but this time with no warning. She jumps, quite nearly flipping the sofa.

“Not scared, huh?”

“That was a jolt of joy.”

“That’s what you’re calling it?” He laughs.

“That’s what it’s called.” She insists.

“Hey! Shush, you’re talking over the movie.”

That was her plan, it was much less horrifying that way. Especially with Sokka making occasional remarks about how the real thing she should worry about is, ‘that sexually attractive piece of monster could steal him away from her.’ Because nothing said attractive like missing half of one’s jaw and the pallor of death.

She quiets down regardless, and lets Sokka bask in the demon’s ethereal beauty. But she retreats further into the blanket and couch cushions. She thinks that if she gets any closer to Sokka that they might fuse together. He kisses her neck.

Thunder rumbles the room, filling in for the noise she isn’t making. Before she knows it, the power surges. “Sokka.” She reflexively squeezes his arm.

“Oh come on!” Sokka throws his hands up. “Now I’ll never know if the exorcism worked.” In his frustration it takes him a moment to notice Azula clinging to him like a small child. “Now this is golden.” He chuckles. “This is much better than the horror movie.”

Azula whacks him, inching away. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, I was just trying to comfort you.” But she is one sudden noise away from tossing her pride to the side completely.

“If you say so.” She can tell that he is rolling his eyes.

“Perhaps we should go upstairs.” She suggests, lighting a small fire in her palm. She is so thankful for the ability, it helped relieve at least some of her fears knowing that she’d always have a light with her. “I’m getting hungry anyhow.”

“I don’t know if there’s much we can cook without…”

Azula cuts him off. “I’m sure I can generate enough lightning to earn us a quick meal.”

“Or you can be our stove for the night.” He wriggles his brows.

“Funny man.” She rolls her eyes as they ascend the stairs. She doesn’t exactly want to lead the way but she  _is_  the one with the light, and she also doesn’t want to be in the back where it would be easier for the ghosts to drag her back into the basement. With that thought, she practically sprints up the stairs. Everyone knows that the ghosts can’t follow you up the stairs. She can hear Sokka laughing his ass off from below and she is ready to kick it. “Just get up here, will you?”

“Aw man, I’m sorry, Azula.” He wipes a tear. “But you’re a riot.”

She seats herself and fixes him with a frown. She can see lightning flashing from the window and she is truly chilled. She really has picked the perfect night. Sokka wrapped the blanket back around her shoulders, she thanks the lord that he has retrieved it. In the same way ghosts couldn’t follow her up the stairs, they also couldn’t see her under blankets. Sokka ruffles her hair and grabs a glass of milk. “Want a glass?”

Azula nods.

She only has time to finish her glass when she hears a crash from upstairs. She fixes Sokka with a look of absolute horror.

“Okay, that’s a little creepy.” He agrees. He wasn’t supposed to agree! He was supposed to tell her that she was just imagining things.

“Should we check it out?” Sokka asked.

“NO!” Azula shouts. “You saw how that went for Moa.”

“You’re still on about that movie?”

That movie has been a source of trauma and nightmare fuel for the past two weeks, but she isn’t about to tell him that. “It’s the best example I’ve got.”

“So what? Are we just going to hide?”

“No, we’re waiting until it comes to us. If we can fight it, we do. If not, we run outside like two wimps.”

“Good plan.” Sokka agrees.

“Now, hush.” She hisses. She can hear footsteps on the stairs and her blood runs cold. She hopes that she isn’t shivering, Sokka would never let her forget something like that. The sound gets closer and she thinks that their guest has reached the bottom of the stairs. A fire dances in her palm.

The figure emerges.

“Run or attack?” Sokka mutters into her ear.

She squints, trying to make the figure out. “I think we can attack this one and win.” She breaths a sigh of relief.

“What are you two doing?” Zuko grumbles.

“Jesus, Zuko!” Sokka exclaims.

“When did you get home?” Azula asks.

“A while ago! I came down here to get a flashlight.”

“You have firebending, Zuzu.”

“I don’t want to burn the book I’m trying to read.” He replies as he riffles through draws for a flashlight. “What are you two doing?” He asks again.

“We were just watching a movie.” Azula replies.

“And Azula can’t handle it.”

She kicks him under the table. “Sokka has no idea what he is talking about.”

“I think he does though.” Zuko declares. “Everyone, but you, knows that you’re a wuss about horror movies.”

Azula’s cheeks grow hot and she is thankful for the power outage. “Whatever.” She grumbles. She looks at her phone for the time. She hadn’t realized how late it was getting. “Follow me to my room, Sokka?” She doesn’t want to sleep alone tonight.

“Sure.” He smiles. “Should I bring the sleeping bag?”

She nods and waits for him to retrieve it. She leads the way and Sokka follows. She can hear Zuko heading their way too and wishes that she let him take the lead; he could face the ghost first. She enters her room and closes the door behind Sokka.

“Oh man, I forgot about all of this.”

She knows that he is talking about the various pandas scattered throughout her room. They sit in neat piles in the corner and are arranged accordingly and sparsely on shelves—the smallest ceramic ones fill the spaces on bookshelves and the smaller stuffed ones sit on the edge of her dresser. Most of the stuffed pandas are gathered on her bed though. One large one—the one Sokka would likely use as a pillow as she liked to—rested in the center of the room on a panda print rug. The first time she caved and let Sokka see it, he had called her room ‘the panda party’.

“What is with you and pandas?” He mumbles.

“I need something to remind people that I’m not going to murder them in their sleep.”  All in all, her bizarre obsession with pandas was the most obnoxiously cute aspect about herself. It was the only adorable thing about herself and she thinks that Sokka gets a real kick out of it.

“That’s precious.”

“No it isn’t.”

“You’re precious.”

“I am not.”

He is snuggling up against her and ruffling her hair again. “You’re so…”

“If you say anything in Japanese, I swear to God…”

“Kawaii.”

Just like that he is standing in the hallway. She tosses the panda rug at him for warmth, the panda pillow for comfort, and one of her many stuffed animals for company and moral support. “Protect me well, Sokka.”


End file.
